The Queen Bee

Death Toll 7

The Al Sufouh Road is the best highway to give a blow job on the go. Add to the fact that it’s that time of the season where rain is both a blessing and a curse, giving head here and now pretty much made my day from work, she thought. She can see the tangent mix of the guy’s reaction of pain, excitement and lust. It definitely turns her on feeling how his driving reflects when he reaches climax. And with that, she stopped.

“Wha-what??” The guy exclaimed.

She just smiled naughtily and lighted her Dunhill Lights. You will only cum when I want you to, she murmured. That has been a routine for roughly a week after meeting the guy who came back to Dubai after almost 10 years of his stay to continue his studies in the Ateneo back in Manila. The trip is pretty boring, where giving head is far better, and amusing than giving small empty talks. The guy is quite nice though, she thought. Too nice to be true. And I know the truth.

Monday. Weekend at last. She receives a text from him, asking her to go to Long’s at Sheikh Zayed. Which she replied with: Okay. See u aftr 30mins. We’ll go dutch this time! She knows his triggers. He hates it when the girl doesn’t allow her to show off his riches. It emasculates him.

Tonight, she’s on her favorite LBD. She made sure she looked more than fine this evening. And the bell rang. He’s here. She found it amusing how the guy moves like clockwork. Give him the time and he’ll be there right on the dot. Predictable. Tsk. It’ll be your downfall, asshole, she breathed. On their way, while the guy is driving, she reached for his crotch and unzipped his fly. This time, He is not in the mood. He wants to talk, she figured. Fuck.

“Look, Bee. I don’t want you to think this is all I want for us” She’d memorized the lines. She heard it in her head over and over. This guy has no game. Get it over with already, she smirked. “Aw, don’t ruin the fun, Gery. I’m setting the mood, you see?” They were quiet the rest of the trip to Sheikh Zayed. Once there, they dined and looked like a regular, high-end pinoy couple stuck in a foreign land, using steal knives. Bourgeoise!

“Gery, I have to go to the lil girl’s room. Behave wouldya?” She teased. She didn’t wait for a response. She stood headed toward where the restroom is, but as soon as she felt that Gery is preoccupied with his phone, she detoured toward the bar counter and asked the waiter for Gery’s favorite Bourbon. She took it and went straight to the ladies room. She opened her bag and took out a small bottle and a syringe. She got a fair amount on the syringe and spiked the whiskey. She then sealed it using wax and heated it up with her lighter. Then she headed back.

Back at the table, she finally waved the waiter for the Bourbon to be served. The guy drank with gusto. Chauvinist fuck. She smiled. She ordered herself tequila. Lots of it. She had five shots already but noticed that the guy is not showing any effects of the substance she injected. Damnit dad, ang tagal naman tamaan nito, she thought. The night turned out pretty lame. The guy babbled the entire ride. She couldn’t concentrate on what he’s saying. So she decided to just wing it and ask for them to pull over. This time, she noticed that she’s getting dizzy. She tried to ignore it. Then it hit her.

My tequila was spiked! Gery knew!

Like some flashback sequence, she recalled what Gery has been blabbering. She was caught. Her elaborate ruse failed. She failed her best friend. And now she’ll fail her son too. But before she doze off entirely, she took the steak knife out and slit Gery’s throat in one swing. Thanks papa for teaching me self-defense, she mused. She heard the gargling sound of what would be his blood.

“You deserve this, Gery”

Fade to black.

The next day, Gulf News headlines a car with a dead Filipina with the gear stick in her mouth and a guy five feet away from the vehicle, who died of blood loss.